


part 6.

by hdarchive



Series: Heartstrings Verse [6]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Nerd!Blaine, Skank!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 14:02:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2231730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hdarchive/pseuds/hdarchive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kurt makes a phone call.</p>
            </blockquote>





	part 6.

His eyes hurt and his brain is on the verge of shutting down. Procrastination might be his specialty, but pushing aside all of his chem homework until Sunday night might be taking it a step too far.

Why is he even taking chemistry? Who in the world signed him up for this and actually expected a positive outcome?

Kurt closes his textbook and shoves it off the bed, relaxes against the headboard and feels mostly satisfied. Only to have that insistent, nagging voice in his head start squawking again. Not his voice, Kurt has learned to ignore his inner voice by now. It’s Blaine’s voice - commanding him to pick up the book and keep trying and  _stick to it, Kurt, I know you can do it!_

He leans over the edge of his bed and grabs the book.

Besides, the real Blaine’s voice is a million times worse and Kurt isn’t prepared to hear it tomorrow if he shows up without his homework done.

It’s not like chemistry is that hard. Blaine’s shown him how to find the catalyst of a reaction mechanism at least five times so far. He can do this.

Kurt stares down at his paper and then back at the textbook, his brain almost throbbing with pain, and pushes it aside again. He reaches for his cellphone instead, unlocks it and finds Blaine’s name in his contacts.

They don’t talk on the phone. It’s just never come up. Voices and words are hard enough in person.

The idea is terrible, and it’s 9:00 p.m and knowing Blaine he’s probably already asleep and it’s a _terrible idea_. Kurt thinks with a smile, that maybe if he complains enough and whines too much then Blaine will just do the work for him. It’s not like Kurt didn’t try, right?

With one last deep breath he hits the call button, presses speaker and then sets the phone beside him on the bed. It rings loudly, echoing through the room, his heartbeat slowing to match the distance between chimes.

He’s not going to pick up he’s not going to pick up this is a terrible idea -

“This is Blaine Anderson,” a voice cuts off the ringing, and Kurt’s heart stops completely. “Kurt?”

Words leave him, mind a blank slate, and he ducks his head to hide the reddening of his face. What was he even thinking, what is he even going to say, what was he hoping to come out of this.

“Kurt? Is this another prank call?”

“N-no,” Kurt finally says, voice wobbling. “Not a prank call.”

He lowers his gaze to the foot of his bed; his blanket tucked haphazardly into the corners, papers strewn about. Nothing but walls surround him yet it feels like the whole world is staring right into him.

“Okay.. I believe you.” Blaine says, slowly. “What can I do for you on this fine Sunday evening?”

Use your words,  _talk to him_. Really should have planned this out beforehand. “You busy? I need your help.”

“Well, I recently got home from my study group, and I was going to play a little Pokémon Black but -”

“So you’re not busy.” Kurt cuts him off, and his lips want to twitch into a smile when Blaine makes that dissatisfied scoff of his.

“I _am_  busy. But if you need something, Kurt Hummel, then I’d be happy to help you. What is it?” Blaine’s voice crackles through the phone.

Kurt sighs dramatically, and Blaine responds with an equally dramatic groan from the other end.

He slides further down the bed until his shoulders meet the pillows, then turns his head towards the phone and asks, “Humor me. If I were to ask how to find the catalyst of a reaction mechanism, what would you say?”

There’s a pause. Every second that ticks by has Kurt’s grin growing wider. And then -

“ _Again_?”

-

The textbook is propped up on his bent legs, sheet of questions half filled out. Kurt mostly drew giant question marks over them instead, because seriously, why is he even taking this class?

Blaine’s been a constant voice next to him. It is surprisingly easier to get actual work done when Blaine isn’t physically there, brushing Kurt’s arm with his and sitting too close.

(Except Blaine can still hear every single thing, including the click of a lighter, and his gasp could be heard around the world and he nearly screamed  _'Put it out! Kurt it’s infecting me through the_  line. _'_ )

“Do you get it?” Blaine asks, voice sounding more tired now. “If not just circle the question and I can help you tomorrow.”

“Can you just do it for me?” Kurt whines, head dropping to smack against the headboard. He gave up trying to be subtle about it five questions ago, and if begging Blaine doesn’t work then Kurt is sort of okay with failing the class.

“ _No_. Kurt, I know you can do this.”

He rolls his eyes, keeps his glare pinned to the ceiling. Just like the voice in his head. “But Blaine-”

“And besides, Ms. Langdon is far too familiar with my handwriting to be fooled by any type of forgery.”

“Well Ms. Langdon is an asshole,” Kurt grumbles.

There’s an appalled gasp from the other end, and Kurt can hear the sounds of fumbling, static, and then Blaine’s voice is louder.

“Kurt! Sh-she can be a nice lady once you get to know her.”

A hollow laugh escapes Kurt, and he shakes his head. “Good thing I don’t plan on getting to know her. And anyone who assigns three chapters of homework for one weekend is an asshole in my book.”

“Kurt-”

“Admit it, Blaine.”

“No, I am not stooping to your level.”

Kurt smiles at the phone, can almost imagine how horrified Blaine must be looking right this moment. And he wonders, can't help it - is he in his own bed? Is he wearing that goddamn Pokémon shirt again? Or maybe he swapped it out for something equally nerdy.

He remains quiet, absentmindedly spinning the stud in his ear, hoping that his smile can’t be heard all the way through the phone.

Blaine sighs, and then, “Okay. She’s an asshole.”

There’s a tick of a second and then Kurt’s face lights up in a grin, mouth pulling to the side as he starts to laugh. Then the warm sound of Blaine’s embarrassed, breathless laughter comes through the other end, and Kurt can practically see the way he’s shaking his head, eyes closed.

“Don’t ever tell her I said that. It would- it would break her heart,” Blaine chokes, voice still bubbling.

“If you don’t help me with this homework then I’m not making any promises,” Kurt says back, and he sinks further into the pillows, facing his phone now.

The break only lasts a few more minutes, and then Kurt’s brain is screaming at him to burn the textbook and close his eyes and sleep.

“I can’t do this anymore,” Kurt says, sleepily, hoping his voice is loud enough for Blaine to hear.

“It’s okay. I’ll help you tomorrow,” Blaine replies, sounding just as tired. “Except, may I ask you a question? Why did you wait until nine p.m on a Sunday to start your homework?”

“It’s this strange thing, Blaine, maybe you’ve heard of it. Called having a social life?”

The line goes quiet. “Oh.”

“Although I was dragged against my will to Scandals last night,” Kurt adds. “I’d choose it over homework any day.”

More silence follows. Not even the rustle of Blaine moving around, not even his breath. Kurt’s heart givens an involuntary jump at the thought of him hanging up. It’s so  _quiet_.

“What-what do you do there? At Scandals?” Blaine’s voice finally comes through, sounding shakier, more timid than before.

Kurt can feel the pause in time, the way his own mind is slowing, processing, understanding the tone of Blaine’s voice. The loaded question.

He can’t fight the tug of his mouth, smirk slowly climbing up half his face.

Suddenly talking out loud seems like too much, like he’s sharing himself with too many people. Kurt reaches for his phone and takes it off speaker, pulling it up to his ear.

“Things.” Kurt nearly whispers. “But to be honest, I mostly go just to keep up appearances. It’s usually where the Skanks hang out.”

With the phone right against his ear Blaine’s sigh is loud and clear. “Right. Right. I knew that.”

Every second feels stretched out, lasting too long. Even the way he’s breathing has slowed, a warmth spreading through him in ways that it shouldn’t.

“So!” Blaine starts again, and everything begins to move. “I have news. Please hold your groaning until the very end.”

Kurt inhales deeply, closing his eyes before letting it out. “I make no promises.”

Blaine takes a breath of his own and pauses, letting the moment build. “I think I’m going to audition for the-”

“No-”

“-glee club.”

“Blaine. No.” Kurt says, gritting his teeth.

Through the phone Kurt can hear a thump, as if Blaine is landing on something.

“They really need more people, Kurt,” Blaine tries, sounding sullen. “Badly.”

“I don’t care.”

“I love to sing, I really do.”

“That’s great,” Kurt drawls, one arm crossing his chest. “It’s your funeral.”

Blaine must not hear the sarcasm (the hurt) bleeding from his voice and continues. “When I was younger I used to put on these performances and— well, I just love to sing. And as long as I still have time to tutor and study, then it’s nothing but beneficial.”

“Beneficial?”

“I need more extracurriculars for college applications. Yale, most specifically.”

“Oh, yeah. Cool.”

Everything feels like ice inside of him and he can’t get the words to form, his mind frozen over. Maybe this is a good thing, maybe they were talking too much, maybe this was going too far.

“Any song suggestions? For my audition?” Blaine asks, and every word is the warmth that Kurt needs to hear.

He laughs into the phone, can’t hold it in, everything melting. “I don’t think we have a similar taste in music.”

“Try me. I’m very versatile,” Blaine teases back.

Kurt’s eyebrow arches high up his forehead, a quizzical smile pulling at his lips. “Oh, I know. I do recall finding a certain album in your collection. Disco, Blaine, really?”

The line crackles, and Kurt has to pull the phone away from his ear when Blaine makes a whining-squawking sound.

“I’ll have you know that disco has a relevant place in the history of music and-”

He’s drowned out by the sound of Kurt’s laugh, loud and unrestrained. He brings a hand to his stomach, fingers splaying out as he shakes and he can’t control it, can’t reign it in. Then the line bursts with Blaine’s own laughter, wavy chuckles and _snorts_  that make Kurt turn his head, face burying in the pillow underneath him.

It lasts for a few moments, but then the sounds die off and they fall into silence.

There isn’t anything left to say, but at the same time there is too much to say. Every word comes easy to Kurt, even though he feels like they don’t. Even if he struggles starting every conversation because he doesn’t know  _how -_  it always falls into place.

He glances over to the alarm clock beside his bed, the bright red numbers telling him it is now well past 11:00 p.m. They should hang up now, because good god, he only called to ask a question about homework, how did they get here?

Except if he could do this night over again, Kurt is sure it’d go exactly this way. And he doesn’t understand it, doesn’t want to understand it, but he’d rather stay up all night actually doing homework as long as Blaine was still on the line with him.

That’s not reasonable. It’s not even _right_. They need to hang up, he knows it.

“We should probably- we should, um, hang up, or something,” Kurt mumbles, breaking the silence, smile finally fading.

Blaine makes a shocked noise after a second’s pause. “Holy moly, look at the time. How did that happen?”

“Yeah,” Kurt chuckles. “Sorry, I guess. I know you have a bedtime.”

Blaine scoffs, his eye roll practically audible through the phone. “Not true! And what’s the harm in wanting eight point five hours of sleep every night? You know the side effects of sleep deprivation include -”

“Okay, okay, I get it!” Kurt cracks up again, amusement bubbling out of him. “Sorry.”

“Just be prepared for Mr. Cranky Pants tomorrow morning,” Blaine warns, voice darkening.

“He sounds frightening.”

“Oh, he is.”

Another round of small, broken laughs, Kurt smiling wide with the phone pressed against his ear, fingers not wanting to let go. Not wanting to say goodbye. Not yet.

Then the line is silent once more, but Kurt knows that Blaine is doing just the same as him. Staring at the ceiling, not fighting the way his eyes crinkle with his smile. Everything is burning, like his insides were melted down, as if he were never made of ice.

He thinks he’d be content with just this. Knowing that through the line Blaine is there, listening.

Despite the heat racing and spreading through him, his thoughts come out crystal clear. Can’t do that, shouldn’t do that.

“Well,” Kurt starts, smile beginning to edge away. “Goodnight Blaine.”

Another pause; a loud, shaky exhale.

“Goodnight Kurt.”

He continues to hold the phone against his ear for a second longer, not wanting to hang up because Blaine hasn’t yet and - something dark swirls through him, tugging at his guts, and he quickly hits the end call button.

Kurt shoves the textbook off the bed one final time, then reaches over to switch off the light.

And no matter how much he tosses and turns in his bed, nothing can shake away the warmth that clings to him when he hears that voice again.


End file.
